


Paying

by keep_waking_up



Series: Beautiful Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always-a-Girl!Sam, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Incestuous feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's pretty sure she believes in karma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Beautiful. Set during the Pilot.

Sam's pretty sure she believes in reincarnation. Or karma. Or something. Because if this isn't punishment, she doesn't know what is.

She really likes Jessica. She's smart, intuitive, and incredibly hot on top of it. They'd met in a sociology class sophomore year. Jess'd sat down next to her, snapping her gum and tapping her red heels against the floor. When the class ended, Jess had watched her scoop up her stuff and sighed, before cocking her head to the side. "Straight or taken?"

Bemused, Sam had stopped her packing, hauling her bag up higher on her shoulder. "Um, what?"

A flash of that bright smile and a toss of long blonde locks was all it took to hook her. Suddenly, Jess was mesmerizing. "You know what they say," Jess had replied and stood so that Sam could see her long tan legs, exposed by a black miniskirt. Another flash of that grin. "About the good ones."

A wary smile had come to Sam's face then and her hip had slanted out. "And how do you know I'm a good one?"

"Baby," Jess'd drawled, and reminded Sam so much of someone else for a moment that she'd had to blink rapidly and refocus on blonde hair and green eyes. "Call it a woman's intuition."

She'd been amused and intrigued, and not at all surprised when Jess had asked her out to drinks after the next class. She'd gone, and Jess had been the first person she'd taken to her bed since Dean had kissed her goodbye at the bus station.

It had been bizarre, at first, to settle down with someone, but before long, she'd fallen into that way of life. It was nice - although nice was hardly an adequate word - to have a partner that satisfied her mentally, spiritually, and sexually. Of course, that was all fucked now.

Caught in between, she watches as her brother assesses her girlfriend. Dean is the same as ever, long bowlegs wrapped up in dark denim and broad shoulders set in leather. Next to him, Jess looks vulnerable, the characters on her shirt displaying a childish innocence that seems out of place with Dean in the room. The smell of smoke and leather taints their living room and Sam knows she won't be able to come in this room for months without smelling him.

One weekend, she says to herself, and manages to dupe herself into thinking its okay. She needs this, needs closure from Dean and the fact that she's in love with him and he knows it and he's trying to use it to bring her back to him. She does this, he'll stop trying. Or he would, if he wasn't so Dean.

When he gets a room, he gets one bed.

She stomps on his foot and makes him sleep on the couch.

The next day on the case, Dean is loud and boisterous, glancing over at her every few seconds, expression flickering between joy and resentment. It's an odd mix. It looks good on him. She swallows that down and bitches about the music in the car instead. "Jeez Dean, have you seriously been listening to this the last four years? The first twenty-two weren't enough?"

He grins like a shark. "Would you feel better if I said it was special for you, Sammy?"

She groans and rests her head against the window. "Oh my god, you have. Dude, how do you live?"

"With really good taste." He twists the volume up, head nodding vigorously along, grinning like crazy as she protests and claps her hands over her ears. They spend a few minutes slapping each other's hands away from the stereo, before they settle on Blue Oyster. In Sam's mind, it is the lesser of many, many evils.

The third time Dean's fingers fall 'accidentally' on hers, she smacks his knuckles with her phone. "What're you doing?"

"What?" he asks innocently.

Sam snorts and curls up against the car door.

Looking back, she should never have clued him in. Winchesters were content to ignore anything that wasn't directly in their faces. All she'd done was give him one more weapon to use against her.

He'd tried his best to keep her from leaving. Her lips still seem to burn sometimes from the desperate kiss he'd pressed on them as they'd stood at the entrance to the Greyhound station, body inviting so much more if she just came back with him. She'd been able to push him away then. She wasn't sure she'd be able to do it now.

She calls Jess from outside their motel that night. The voice crackling through the phone sounds so distant, more than a few hundred miles. She reassures Jess that she's okay, no, they haven't found her dad yet, but tomorrow, tomorrow. Goodbye, I love you, good night. Night.

Her brother is stretched across the bed when she comes back in, hair still damp from showering the mud out. One bed again, not two. And no couch this time. Dean yawns, big and wide. "You check in with the ball and chain?"

"Get off the bed," she mutters and tugs at the sheets. "You're on the floor tonight."

Sighing, he props himself up against the headboard. "There's room in the bed for both of us. You're a stick." When she doesn't stop trying to evict him, he grabs her wrist. "C'mon. We shared a bed 'til you were twelve."

"Yeah, and I had to put up with you jerking off while I was in the bed for three years." Probably her whole sick infatuation had started there. Or maybe that was just the next step.

"Won't do it tonight, Sammy, promise. Just c'mon." He coaxes her onto the bed as he would a frightened animal.

She shakes her head and draws back. "I know what you're trying to do, Dean."

"What, sleep with my sister?" His teeth flash at the double entendre. "C'mon, isn't this what you want?"

"No." She pulls away, beats a hasty retreat. "No. No. I'm happy now. I won't let you take that from me."

She sees him give up, slumping back on the pillows in resignation. "It's just sharing a bed."

"No." She rests her hand on the bathroom doorknob to close herself inside. "It's really not."

The next morning her shoulders and legs ache from cramming her body into the bathtub. She doesn't speak to Dean all morning, sticking her headphones in her ears as soon as she gets up. It isn't perfect, (she can still hear him yammering in the back round), but they don't speak until he goes outside and manages to get himself arrested.

Joseph Welch is the kind of guy that makes her wish she'd inherited her family's monster genes and been over six foot. Having to look up at him while he condescendingly speaks to her chest makes her want to shoot something. Instead, she just tells him about his wife, which is nearly as effective.

The big surprise of the day is that the Woman in White comes after her. Seeing as she's a girl and, despite Dean's best efforts, faithful. She has time for the fleeting thought that maybe there's some sort of lesbian discrimination before it sinks its claws into her chest.

Surprisingly, her mad idea works. Dean throws a hissy fit about the smashed head light, but overall its a good day, good hunt. The feel-good moment only lasts until she reminds Dean that she has to go home, but its the best she's felt around him since she was sixteen, so she's pretty content.

Content enough that when he leans in to kiss her in front of her building, she lets him, completely pliant for ten glorious seconds.

She pays for it with Jess's body on the ceiling.


End file.
